A/N: Thank you all for your kind reviews and reassurances. I cannot tell you how deeply I appreciated them and needed them. They kept me going this week when writing the next chapter (ch 7) got harder and harder and harder. I fighting for every word of that one but Doge assures me you will love it and it will be worth it. Someone give that woman a medal for enduring my anxious ramblings and rereading stuff ten million times. I'm only about halfway through writing that one. I'm trying to have it ready to stay on schedule with posting every week. You really are the best and your continued encouragement and support make all the difference. Plus, I LOVE your insights and thoughts. They make writing so much more interactive and I love that!

To the guest who was wondering how long this story will be: good question. I think there will be at least one more chapter and then an epilogue but I have written enough stories to know that the story often has a mind of its own and that can change. And thank you! I am glad I am not the only one that felt this was an overlooked episode. I obsessed over it for a long time as this story started to come together in my head. And shame on Booth for not giving the poor girls a hug because you're right, she needed one.

This brings up an interesting question. I have been thinking of doing a collection of stories that focus on fixing episodes I have a problem with. There are some where something just wasn't handled right (according to me haha) and I think what if they'd handled it this way or maybe they just need something extra or shouldn't have ended when they did. Any thoughts on that? Maybe leave them with a review and your thoughts on this chapter?

The Long Way Home

Chapter 6

She didn't know why she couldn't control what was happening to her which bothered her. Especially now, all she wanted to do was go to sleep, but her mind wouldn't stop reliving the last couple of days in horrifying detail, every interaction exaggerated. It all felt twisted and larger than life. It was an assault and the timing couldn't have been worse with Booth lying just a few feet away in the other bed.

This was why she wanted to be home, she told herself, so she could process it in privacy.

Alone. No one there watching her. So she could get back on top of all the feelings and emotions that under normal circumstances she carefully controlled. Normal. Nothing felt normal. She longed for normal. Carefully she let out a long sigh in measured increments so as not to draw attention to herself.

While she couldn't understand what was happening to her or why, she knew she didn't want Booth to know. She'd been burden enough for one night, she told herself. He deserved to sleep. Rolling over, she turned away from him. She laid there trying her best to be still as if she was asleep and control her breathing, keeping it shallow and quiet so he wouldn't suspect anything was wrong as tears rolled down her cheeks. She didn't even wipe them away for fear he'd catch her movements and figure it out.

Booth wasn't so easily fooled.

She heard him throw the covers off and froze. The bed creaked as he swung his legs off and sat up. Then nothing. Sitting there in his boxers and undershirt, he debated the best way to handle this. She heard his hands land on his knees and the audible groan that escaped as he stood and took the couple steps. Pain maybe, or frustration, she couldn't tell. Eyes closed tight, she held her breath when she felt his weight fall on the bed as he laid down beside her.

"C'mere." Stiff, she didn't move, every part of her frozen by his proximity. "Come on, Bones, you can't con a conman. C'mere." There was a long pause before she answered.

"I don't know what that means." she squeaked out. So tired. Still trying to hide her tears. Still facing away from him.

She felt his hand, his strong but tender touch on her shoulder pulling, starting her in motion, rolling her until she was facing him. Wasting no time, he reached out and gently wiped away her tears removing all doubt that she hadn't fooled him.

"Temperance," he whispered. She couldn't understand his tone but the way he said her name brought comfort in a way she could never explain. It collapsed her defenses but made her feel safe at the same time.

"Give me your hand." He spoke softly and when she didn't budge he let his hand slide from her cheek to her shoulder following down her arm until he was holding her hand gently in his. "I want to share something with you, okay? You shared a lot with me tonight, some things I would guess no one else knows about but you and me." She couldn't speak at all now, her throat tight, strangled sobs escaping as her body shook with emotion. "So I'm going to share something with you."

Booth moved her hand to his hip just below the elastic on the outside of his boxers. Adjusting her hand back a little, she felt the wide welt of a long scar through the light fabric. She quieted, a rush of concern flooding her as she squinted through the dark of the room to connect with his eyes. The scar reached from his side back onto his buttocks.

"You can't con a con man because a con man knows all the tricks, they recognize when you're trying to pull one over on them. Understand?" He gave her a nod. Swallowing hard, she gave one back. "I knew you were crying, Bones, even though you weren't making a sound, I knew." The implication was clear to her, he himself had learned to cry silently to avoid detection.

Her fingers moved gently over the scar, taking in the length and width as they lay there in silence. Booth's body was tense, she could feel it in his muscles, everything tight and hard. She knew this was difficult for him, like herself he rarely talked about his youth. All she wanted to do was soothe his pain away. Clearing his throat, he took a breath and spoke.

"Jared broke a vase."

Her hand stopped moving, giving all her attention to the man lying next to her. "My mom loved that vase, it was pretty and she didn't have a lot of pretty things." It was so long ago now the details were hazy except for the blisteringly clear parts. He was sure his dad got it for her. Probably an apology, a promise to do better, to change. Which he never did. "He came home early that day ...drunk off his ass and saw her cleaning up the broken pieces. He lost his shit and before he could get to Jared I told him it was me, that I broke it."

"Booth." Her voice was soft and full of love and hurt for the man lying next to her.

"He ...he …he wailed all over my ass. I think he knew it wasn't me. I think he was punishing me as much for taking credit as for the broken vase. Used his belt. Harder than I remember him ever doing. I was trying to get away, you know, moving all over the place and his belt ...it hit just…. It must have been the angle or something."

He sucked a long hard breath in and let his forehead fall on hers while his thumb ran steadily over her hand holding it in place on the backside of his hip.

"Mom wanted to take me to the hospital but my dad said no. He knew. He knew that was a bad idea."

A broken arm, a dislocated shoulder, little cuts from getting punched, they'd taken him to the ER using the fact that he was a little boy many times. With little boys, you can say it was an accident or brothers fighting but there was no reasonable excuse for this and Booth was sure that even drunk he knew that.

"He was careful that way. Never got caught."

She wanted to pull her hand away and rest it on his cheek. She wanted to hold him close and comfort him. But that scar held her attention. It hadn't been stitched, she could tell by the roughness of it. It must have been deep, she surmised, because of the width. She found her heart racing and her hatred for this beautiful man's father raging.

"I cried. I cried and he didn't like that." Memories of his mother trying to comfort him, quiet him, flooded his mind. She shushed him, over and over, begging him to be quiet, for fear that the sound of his bawling would set off his dad. But the blood had dried to his underwear and was pulling on his wound and it hurt so bad. "It ...it set him off all over again."

Pulling away just a little she raised her eyes to his with an intensity he'd rarely seen in them. "Not on me. Not that time."

"Okay." She whispered, settling back down opposite him, closer this time.

"It was my mom. My mom got it."

He brought his hand back up to her cheek letting it rest there. She didn't move, her hand glued to the evidence of his injury.

"I didn't cry after that ...not out loud, I mean, I learned to keep it in, not make a sound. So, I know ...I know all the tricks." He stroked her cheek. A quiet settled between them as they lay there in the dark room, two wounded souls in the habit of hiding their pain.

"I'm sorry that happened to you." She moved just then, settling herself in his arms and nuzzling in under his chin, which caught him a little off guard. "We're quite a pair, aren't we?"

"That we are, baby. That we are." It seemed natural in the moment, to bend just a little and press a firm kiss to the top of her head. He didn't even think about it, just did it. It wasn't until after that he found himself waiting for her response.

"You called me baby earlier tonight."

"I did."

"Baby is a term of endearment."

"Yes, it is."

"It actually doesn't mean baby, as in an infant or young child, when you use it as such."

"True."

"It is a way of referring to a person or inanimate object or pet for which you have affectionate feelings or love." He was smiling, she could feel it. "You used it tonight, but that was not the first time you called me baby."

He had used it before, although he didn't know that she'd heard him because she'd never said anything about it before. And since she'd never said anything he figured she hadn't heard it or ignored it because he'd just shot the man attacking her and who'd stabbed her. He'd thought she was in shock.

"Does it bother you?" There was a long pause. Too long to be comfortable. But she wasn't pulling away, she still lay comfortably in his arms, her fingers playing with the waistband of his boxers. Taking a deep breath, she let it out slowly.

"Oddly, no. But that could be because of the timing. It does confuse me though. Baby, as a term of endearment, is usually reserved for people who are involved in a romantic relationship, which we are not." She had him there.

"I wasn't really thinking about all that, you know." His hand lay on her arm, his fingertips drawing circles on her shoulder. "I was just thinking about you. I just wanted you to feel safe, you know, and that I was there for you." Nodding, she took in a deep breath. She had felt safe, did feel safe.

Companionable. That would be the word she would choose to describe being in his arms like this. Safe. Secure. Then her mind went somewhere unintended. Loved. She felt loved. But before her mind could continue down that slippery slope Booth started talking again.

"Hey, I need to apologize for something." She couldn't think of anything he would need to apologize for and found herself leaning to find his eyes. "That night after we met with Sweets, I shouldn't have pushed you like I did and I'm sorry."

He'd been thinking about it on the long drive after she'd brought up Hodgins and Wendell and love, and he realized he'd done the very thing he always warned others not to do when dealing with her. He'd pushed her rather than give her time to process. All these questions she'd been asking, all this talk of relationships, that was how she processed. Booth found himself hoping it wasn't too late, that maybe all this was her considering him and his offer.

She squirmed in his arms, her discomfort becoming obvious. "I haven't changed my mind, Bones, like I said before, I love you and I want to give this a chance, but I didn't give you time to think about it that night. That was wrong of me. I took Sweets' advice. I gambled. I shouldn't have done that to you. That wasn't fair. It was too much pressure."

Laying back down she let her hand slide down his side, playing with his t-shirt while he talked, tugging little bits at a time where it had gotten tucked into his boxers. Nerves he thought, a fidget because he'd brought up a topic that made her uncomfortable. Until her cold fingers hit his bare skin and he felt her hand slip below his waistband and back around the side of his body where they rested on the scar he had her feel earlier.

He sucked in a quick breath, "you really ought to warn a guy before you do that."

Her fingers ran the length of it over and over, tracing each edge feeling for every detail. Try as he might he couldn't get his breath to even out. There was no way to come off unaffected by her touch which was so intimate. At the same time, he couldn't refuse her. He wouldn't tell her to stop. Booth found himself holding her tighter, his warm breath rushing across her forehead.

They were a pair, she thought, both having suffered emotional and physical abuse as children. Both had been abandoned by their parents. Their similarities felt more pronounced than ever. Did that make them a good match or a terrible one? She didn't know. A feeling which seemed to be conveyed in her touch. A hard swallow from Booth seemed to bring her back from her thoughts, halting her fingers she let her full hand run gently over the old wound.

"I am not good at relationships."

"You've said that."

"It should go without saying. You were there. You saw. You met my peers. You heard all the stories, the names."

"That's not you, not the you I know, and those are not your peers. They never were."

"Yes, Booth, they were."

"No, Bones, they weren't your peers. I mean they're the people you went to high school with, sure, but they were never in any way your peers. They could never hold a candle to you. Never."

"Booth." Everything about her paused and he could tell she was thinking about what he was saying. Having given this a tremendous amount of thought, she knew exactly how to answer every one of his many arguments. Letting out an exasperated sigh she began. "You look at me through rose-painted glasses."

"Rose-colored ...rose ...that's not the point. I mean, don't get me wrong, they're probably decent people but you were never meant to be one of them or like them. They're still stuck in high school, Bones."

"No, they're not."

"I don't mean literally. I mean they're still stuck in the same stupid social crap way of thinking they've been living forever. I mean Julie Coyle was still calling ...calling...what's his name-"

"Brad. Brad Benson."

"Yeah, him, she's still talking about him being the prom king like it was some great life accomplishment. You, you're a famous author, a famous scientist, a professor, crime fighter." Her fingers started moving again, a simple back and forth over the lip of the scar as she thought.

"Hodgins is your peer. Cam, Angela ...me." Pausing briefly, he gave her a squeeze, pulling her closer. "Even your squinterns are more peers to you than stupid Andy Pfluger or Rebecca Conway and don't even get me started on Julie Coyle. The people in that town are NOT your peers."

If she were honest with herself, he was right, that was true. She had people that she felt comfortable with in her life. They were the friends she didn't have in high school. Real friends, Booth explained it to her. They're the people that are there for you in your triumphs and struggles. In her mind, she saw them all gathered when Booth was in the hospital waiting for surgery on his tumor, all there for him, for her. More recently there at her house gathered around her dining room table holding hands on Christmas. The laughter they shared, the support they gave each other, they understood her at least they tried to, and even if they didn't understand her they still cared for her, supported her. That was friendship.

"I like my life."

"Exactly."

"You are my peer." Raising herself up, she caught his eyes. "And my partner." He nodded. "My friend." Her voice was quieter, slower with each word, breathy as his thumb ran softly over her cheek.

"Yes. I am. I'm all of those things ...and more."

She stopped running long enough to see the adoration in his deep, brown eyes. Not just see it, feel it. Heart in overdrive, brain in neutral. Normally she would fight that but she couldn't, she just didn't have it in her. Tired of running from it, there was no denying that she wanted it easily as much as she was terrified of it. Maybe more. Letting her eyes fall closed she fell into the feeling. This man loved her. He loved her in a way that was almost intimidating at times. Overwhelming. Could she love him that way? According to Booth she already did.

Leaning up like she was, she couldn't reach his hip any longer. Instead, her hand drifted. Making long strokes across his chest and shoulders, up to cheek. Her fretfulness had been a distraction but not anymore. Now he struggled to appear unaffected, her touch stirring him in ways he should probably try to stop. But there was something in her eyes, something different and mesmerizing. They'd never shared anything like this, never allowed themselves to, it felt, it felt unstoppable, like life set in motion, a beginning

Pulling his hand back from her cheek, he ran it along the whole side of her face brushing her hair back where it kept falling down around her. Eyes closing momentarily, she fell into the soothing nature of his touch. She found herself leaning into it. Booth looked on her beauty. Caught in his loving gaze she couldn't deny the feelings she'd been pushing away with extraordinary diligence. Closing her eyes and lowering her forehead to his she'd hoped to break the spell, it didn't work.

Somehow she felt more. The slight roughness to his hands on her shoulder then arm, then down at her waist. She found herself holding her breath, hoping, then feeling his fingers pull at the bottom of her tank top. She wanted it, wanted it for so long. It was her that suggested dating first, her that proposed sex before ultimately denying him. But so much had happened between them since then. It wouldn't be just sex between them, it couldn't be. Maybe it never could've been. One thing for sure, it couldn't be now, not with everything they'd been through together, not with everything they felt for one another.

The light graze of his fingers over the bare skin of her lower back. The way her breath quickened, the little puffs falling on his cheeks, the uncontrollable hum that escaped her, all spoke to him saying it pleased her. But even he didn't expect what happened next. Her mouth fell on his, open, demanding, passionate.

Thank you for reading

DG